


The Way Things Could've Gone

by fruityandoaty



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Hurt/Comfort, IDW Angel Comics, M/M, Romance, Slash, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruityandoaty/pseuds/fruityandoaty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had a lot of time down there—to think. You know, about the way things went, the way they could've gone."</p><p>A currently-being-updated collection of unconnected Angel/Wesley oneshots, too short to bother posting on their own. Rating will vary from chapter to chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Specifics:
> 
> Takes place in season five with a pre-established relationship between Angel and Wes.
> 
> Previously posted on Tumblr.
> 
> Not sure about the rating. Pretty tame, but one line might warrant it Teen.

”Take them, Wes,” Angel implored again as he held out two small yellow pills.

 

"Angel…" Wesley was losing patience with this conversation as he was losing time from it. He turned his wrist and looked at his watch pointedly.

 

"Please, Wes… for me?"

 

Wesley glared. Angel was stooping to a low level now. They both knew it. “They’ll put me to sleep and I don’t have the time to spend my day in bed!”

 

"Sure you do. Your boss is giving you the day off."

 

Angel likely thought his tone left no room for argument, but with Wesley that wasn’t the case. “Our line of work, even in Wolfram & Hart, does not follow such basic rules. It’s only the common cold.” These words came out with an embarrassing pitch brought on by a stuffed nose and hoarse throat. “And I’m a grown man.”

 

"Then act like one and take your medicine. But hey, if you wanna behave like a naughty little boy, I could have some fun treating you like one."

 

Wesley could feel warmth touch the backs of his ears. And other places. But he only sighed to continue his point. Except the long-suffering sigh he’d meant to give turned into a barking cough.

 

As soon as Wesley had himself under control, his body no longer in spasms, Angel’s face was right before him. The desk was technically between them, but Angel leaned all the way over. And his eyes were barely narrowed and not a single wrinkle of anger showed on his forehead, but he still managed to look menacing enough to intimidate any demon. And Wesley was only human.

 

"You got sick. That’s your business. I trust you," Angel said, each word softly spoken. Deadly soft. "But now you’re *really* sick. You almost *passed out* this morning. You keep pushing yourself and that puts you in danger. And that makes this my business too." Angel straightened up again and finished. "Because I love you."

 

Though Wesley knew every word even if true was also a tactic, it was one that worked too well. Maybe it was being sick. Wesley’s body’s defenses were all in use fighting off the virus that had washed Wesley in misery for the past week. But suddenly Wesley felt as if they should be standing back in a simpler office, in a simpler time. He should be in a suit and tie. Most importantly, Wesley should be explaining he experienced allergies from time to time and looking away. 

 

Angel had won. Of course Wesley couldn’t refuse him this little thing to make his world just a bit less complicated and stress-filled.

 

At least, Wesley told himself, this might mean being back in the office tomorrow with renewed energy. He could wrap up the research for the cases most likely to cause Angel legal trouble in half the time it was taking him today.

 

"I love you, too," Wesley murmured his reason for giving in as he reached for the tablets and the glass of water.


	2. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specifics:
> 
> Rating - Teen
> 
> Takes place during Angel: After the Fall.
> 
> Previously posted on Tumblr.

It’s only when they can no longer touch that they realize how much they want to.

When Angel comes back to the crumbled building of Wolfram & Hart, calling it his home, and collapses on the floor or the medical table or sometimes even his bed, Wesley always treats him. He heals him. He watches over him. He doesn’t dress the wound with long, careful fingers. He doesn’t soothe the pain by rubbing soft circles around the bruises.

After Wesley has been punished by the Senior Partners for not fulfilling his role as conduit to its fullest extent – meaning he has assisted Angel in some manner, as opposed to simply spying on him and hindering his progress – and is left shaking and wondering how a non-corporeal being can be forced to feel excruciating pain, Angel rushes toward him. He sees instantly what’s wrong. But he can’t put an arm around Wesley’s shoulders and lead him to a seat. He can’t squeeze Wesley’s arm and show his support.

When Angel falls ill from the blast of a curse, Wesley sets about instructing him in the ingredients to cure himself. They mix a foul smelling concoction and Angel drinks it down. But the mixture will not set in for hours yet and Angel is left with, essentially, a bad case of the flu. Wesley should lay his hand on Angel’s forehead and check his temperature as Angel tosses and turns in bed, throwing off his covers. He should massage the sore, tense muscles in Angel’s back. He should be able to _do something_.

Wesley’s collar is always straight. His suit is always meticulous. When one has no corporeal body, it can’t get messy, Angel guesses. But Angel misses the days when he would reach out and fix an untucked edge of Wesley’s shirt. He misses clapping Wes on the shoulder and getting one of those smiles that were just for him, for Angel.

When they’re sitting side by side in front of the fire that was already ablaze when they arrived on the scene, they’re arms brush. Not really, of course. Wesley’s arm goes right through Angel’s. They both wish it were different. Wesley wants the warmth. He wants to feel what this new version of Angel has to offer. Angel just wants someone who knows the truth about him, who is there for him, who he doesn’t have to hide from. He wants Wes.

One day they work across the table from one another. Yet another futile research attempt. Angel turns the pages for the both of them. Wesley translates what Angel cannot read. Angel watches Wesley’s lips move. They’re heads lean closer together then they ever have in the past. There’s no danger now. No risk of the kiss they shouldn’t take. They shouldn’t ruin their friendship. They shouldn’t push their relationship. Now they never will.

One night Wesley slips onto the bed next to Angel. Angel has invited him. They talk for hours. It is more than they’ve said to each other in years. It is more than they ever could have said had they been anywhere but here. Here they will not move forward. They will not turn to each other and intertwine arms and legs. They won’t slip hands beneath clothes. They won’t make love and find one moment of happiness in hell.

One way or another, they are about to die. Not become ghosts, not return to vampirism. They will be gone. Wesley tells Angel what he needs to hear. This time, it is the truth. _Being your friend and fighting by your side has been an honor._ When Wesley reaches out and lays his palm upon Angel’s shoulder, fingers curling around muscle, Angel cannot feel it. He shouldn’t even notice. But he does and for that moment they feel each other in every way that matters.

 


	3. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specifics:
> 
> Rating - General
> 
> Season - Any, though I visualize an AU S2 or S3

As an unspoken rule, Angel and Wesley did not celebrate Valentine’s Day. Angel had, in the past, acknowledged the holiday to a frightening, bloody degree. Now they silently agreed to move around the memories rather than feeding them by participation.

 

“We hardly need flowers and chocolates to signify our devotion,” Wesley said reassuringly on February 13th. “Besides, I’ve never had much reason for all this…” He waved a hand at a lit storefront full of red and pink. “…fuss, I’m afraid.”

 

Then, realizing he’d perhaps hinted at too much, Wesley continued walking through the cool night with Angel at his side, the topic dropped.

 

The next day Wesley went into work and sat down at his desk as usual. In the middle of the papers waiting for him was something new: a small box. Wesley picked it up and carefully opened the lid. Inside was a solitary heart-shaped candy with a single, short sentence inscribed atop it:  _Be Mine_.


	4. Claustrophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specifics:
> 
> Rating - T
> 
> Setting - Season five, pre-established relationship, random baddy-of-the-week captures Wesley

They found Wesley just as his oxygen supply was becoming too little to sustain him. He was mercifully unconscious by the time Angel pulled him out of the steel box that had kept him locked in, unable to move more than an inch or two in any direction, for the past day.

 

Angel clutched Wesley's limp body to his chest as sirens sounded in the distance.

 

“Ambulance is on its way,” Gunn called out.

 

A mix of voices surrounded Angel:

 

“Angel, let me...” No. Angel shook his head, refusing to let anyone else get in even for something like checking Wesley's vitals. It could wait.

 

“Is there a pulse?” Yes. Would Angel be this calm if even for a second Wesley's heart stopped beating?

 

“He's waking up!”

 

That last one came through all the others clearly. Angel looked down. Wesley had woken. Or at least his eyes were open. But he wasn't seeing his friends or the cool night air or the lights around him. Terror was flashing behind the blue.

 

Like a dying man Wesley gasped for air.

 

“Hey, hey,” Angel tried to calm him. “You're out. You can breathe.”

 

It didn't help. Wesley thrashed in Angel's tight grip and Angel reluctantly let go, inching his way back. But a clutching hand stopped him. Wesley's. Wesley was gripping Angel's shirt sleeve like he would fall and never stop if Angel left him and Angel hated himself for loving that a little bit.

 

“What's wrong with him?” Fred's voice asked quietly.

 

“Just... give him some space,” Angel said softly, trying to be there for Wes without crowding him again. More importantly, he was trying to spare Wes. If Wesley knew his friends had seen him like this he would be humiliated, no matter that none of them were judging.

 

He propped Wesley up into a sitting position, so that he was cradled in Angel's arms. All Angel could do was shush the small whimpers rising from Wesley's chest and pray the ambulance would hurry the hell up. “It's okay,” Angel whispered. “You're safe.”

 

Whether or not Wesley could hear him, Angel couldn't tell. Wesley definitely wasn't seeing him. Whatever Wes was looking at, Angel wanted to hurt it bad for putting such a look of fear on his face.

 

Angel was ready to kill the slow driver by the time the ambulance arrived and the sedative was working its way into Wesley's system. As Wesley drifted off, his grip never loosened around Angel's hand.

 

The next time Wesley opened his eyes was under the bright light of hospital florescent. They were Wesley's eyes again though. Calm and cool and soft and open to the world, seeing everything. Angel breathed a sigh of relief, no matter that he didn't need to.

 

“Hey,” Angel said softly, leaning forward in his seat next to the hospital bed.

 

Wesley smiled in return. “Hey.” His voice was hoarse. Angel guessed using your throat to scrape in every last drop of oxygen in your own personal tomb would do that to you.

 

Wesley blinked at his surroundings and groaned. “The hospital again?”

 

Angel felt his lips curve up, just relieved to hear that voice, especially if Wes felt well enough to complain. “Just a day or so this time.”

 

They both fell silent. Angel had to ask. “How much do you remember?”

 

Wesley closed his eyes and Angel knew the answer before Wes whispered it. “All of it.” A shudder surprised them both, jerking Wesley's body on the bed and causing Angel's body to lurch forward, ready to spring into action. But it was just an aftershock.

 

Angel reached out to put a steadying hand on Wesley's arm.

 

“I'm sorry,” Wesley whispered.

 

If Wesley had been trying to spike Angel's worry up another few notches he couldn't have done a better job of it. Angel tried to sound calm, in control. They both knew better though. “For what?”

 

“For not being stronger.”

 

_Snap out of it, Wes_ , he wanted to say. _Come back to me._ But the tough love approach probably wasn't the best one right now. So, gently, Angel said, “I remember what it's like, you know.”

 

“Pardon?” Wesley asked. It got him to open his eyes.

 

“Trapped in a space so small you can't move. Not sure you're ever getting out.”

 

Their eyes met and it was the same as always. Words went unsaid but understood just as if they were spoken.

 

Angel continued, “It messes with your head. I get that.” He hesitated and added, “Especially if you're already claustrophobic to being with.”

 

Wesley's eyes widened as Angel knew they would.

 

“Yeah,” Angel said, as carefully as he could. “I figured it out back there. You hate small spaces, don't you?”

 

Wesley swallowed tightly. Angel could see his throat working like he wanted to protest. Finally he nodded, a small little movement. “I imagine,” Wesley breathed, “you can guess why, too?”

 

“I'd kill him if I thought you'd ever forgive me for it,” Angel whispered, thinking of that little Wesley – _his_ Wesley, _his_ boy - locked away under the stairs.

 

“It isn't you I'd have to forgive. It would be myself, for the part of me that wishes to take you up on what I know is a genuine offer.” Wesley's voice shook like he was forcing the words out.

 

Angel knew it was time to change the subject. But Wesley had other ideas.

 

“It did make a difference, you know,” Wesley said. Angel threw him a question in a look. “I never forgot you were out there, searching. This time I knew for certain someone was coming to let me out of the dark.”

 


End file.
